


a match made in hell

by redcarnations



Category: Valkyrie Drive: Mermaid
Genre: F/F, Softball AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-03
Updated: 2017-01-03
Packaged: 2018-09-14 10:24:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9176857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redcarnations/pseuds/redcarnations
Summary: It must be, Charlotte thinks, some twisted kind of fate that has brought her and Momoka together like this.





	

**Author's Note:**

> i just wanted momolotte to make out, but somehow ended up with this?   
> i played softball like once in 6th grade, please bear with me i know nothing

It must be, Charlotte thinks, some twisted kind of fate that has brought her and Momoka together like this. They’ve been rivals since the start of middle school, since forever really, and now they’re expected to work together. 

Charlotte doesn’t like Momoka, she doesn’t really like anyone but Momoka gets under her nerves the way that no one else ever has. It doesn’t help that Momoka seems to do it on purpose, smiling all sweetly, innocently one second while they’re in front of the captain, but whispering a taunt to her right before it’s Charlotte’s turn at bat.

She grinds her teeth, her gaze flicking over to Akira for a split second, before going back to the pitcher, Noe. She can still feel a puff of breath against her ear, Momoka’s teasing voice,  _ Good luck _ .

She can’t let this rile her up though, that’s probably exactly what Momoka wants. For Charlotte to lose face in front of the entire team, in front of their captain. Sure, it’s not a real match, the team is just split into two for practice, but to Charlotte, it’s all the same. 

Noe’s arm winds back, and Charlotte narrows her eyes. She sucks a breath in, holds it, bat feeling heavier than usual in her hands. The ball comes closer, and she can almost hear the sharp crack as it goes flying before it even makes contact. 

She hears Momoka cheer, and even though she knows better than this, she loses her cool, she swings too soon. There is no satisfying smack of the softball against the bat, instead it’s the smack of the softball as it’s caught neatly by Nimi’s mitt.

“Strike one.”

Her face burns, red with anger and embarrassment both. She clenches her teeth harder, grip tightening along the bat. 

She gets the next one, the ball sails cleanly out to the outfield, and she makes it to second base without any trouble.

She fixes her usual smug look on her face, a grin that bares her pointed teeth, and directs her gaze at Momoka. Momoka isn’t even looking, laughing and smiling at one of their other teammates in the dugout. This only makes her angrier, along with giving her a strange, vexed, frustrating feeling.

 

It doesn’t help that Charlotte gets tagged out before she manages to slide home. Usually, Noe and Nimi’s impressive teamwork would be something good, but right now it only pisses her off more. She scowls as she heads back into the dugout, her scowl deepening as her eyes land on Momoka’s face.

She’s smiling, almost cat like, as if she’s caught sight of something amusing, as if Charlotte’s failure is  _ funny _ to her. 

Momoka has the gall to laugh, “Good job out there.”

And Charlotte knows that she really shouldn’t let herself get carried away, she shouldn’t let her anger take control of her, but it’s been two months already and Momoka seems to take every chance she gets to piss her off.

And whatever little patience that she has left snaps. She slams a hand against the wall, neatly pushing Momoka back.

She spits out, “What the hell is your problem?!”

Momoka looks back at her, eyes wide, a grin still splitting her face. Something briefly flits across her face, something that Charlotte can’t read, not with the anger that’s clouding her judgement.

“My problem?” She looks confused, even a little scared now, but Charlotte’s butted heads with her enough times in the past to not trust her expression.

A hand lands on Charlotte’s shoulder, and pulls her away from Momoka. It’s a gentle, but firm touch and Charlotte knows it’s Akira’s hand without even having to look.

Something sinks in the pit of her stomach just then, she’s made a scene and the captain has had to intervene.

“Charlotte, Momoka, what’s going on over here?” Akira’s voice is steady, full of authority, and yet she doesn’t sound threatening.

“Nothing,” Momoka says, her voice is sweet and Charlotte wants to gag. “We were...we were just talking!”

Akira nods her head slowly, “It didn’t look like that.. I’ll talk to both of you after practice, don’t leave early.”

Her hand is still on Charlotte’s shoulder, and it feels like an iron weight. She pats her back softly, before walking back out, to help adjust a different first year’s stance.

Charlotte doesn’t pull her gaze away from the floor, instead she keeps her head low, and goes to sit on the bench.

Her pride’s been hurt, all these failings, and every single one in front of Akira. 

She won’t admit it, not to anyone else, and especially not to herself, but she does admire their captain. Akira probably thinks she’s a problem child now, easily agitated, quick to solving things through violence. It’s true that she has a quick temper, but it’s never this bad. It’s all Momoka’s fault. 

She grits her teeth again, it really is all Momoka’s fault, and it’s really not fair. 

 

Akira stands across from the both of them, arms crossed against her chest. Practice has ended nearly half an hour ago, and fading afternoon sunlight filters in through the open window of their club room. Charlotte’s gaze is still directed at the floor, her pink hair, still slightly damp from a shower, curtains her face slightly. There’s some of the usual prideful bitterness in her eyes, but she isn’t so arrogant as to not realize when something is her fault.

Momoka, on the other hand, has a small smile on her face, arms folded behind her back, and seems to look a little confused as to why the captain’s called them here.

Akira sighs, and her arms drop to her sides. She runs a hand through her hair, and sounds immensely tired when she begins to speak, “Look,”

She shakes her head, red curls bobbing slightly as she does, “Both of you...are...very valuable members of our team, but it’s important that you realize that you’re both part of _ this  _ team now.”

Charlotte looks up slowly, and realizes that Akira is now addressing her, “Our school intentionally scouted you, we wanted you because we’d seen the way you lead your team in middle school. You’re a strong leader, and were able to clearly see the potential of each teammate and push them forward.”

She directs her gaze at Momoka now, “And you were scouted for similar reasons, though there’s a different kind of spunk that you show on the field. Your strategy is amazing, knowing how to read not only your own team but the opposition.”

Momoka nods her head, her smile spreading a little wider. She opens her mouth to thank Akira, but Akira holds up a hand.

“But, you’re both part of this team now. I know you were rivals in the past, and that it’ll be hard to get along, but I’d like to see some effort. Especially on your side, Charlotte.”

“I…” Charlotte sputters, unable to refute what Akira’s said. It’s Momoka’s fault, she wants to say, it’s Momoka who’s always getting under her skin. 

Akira waits for her to continue, and Charlotte’s shoulders that have risen defensively drop. She sighs, “I’ll try.”

Akira nods her head, looking a little satisfied, before asking the same of Momoka, “And will you try?”

Momoka grins, and swings an arm around Charlotte’s shoulder, “Of course! I want to be best friends with Charlotte, if she’ll give me the chance!”

Charlotte flinches at the touch, and bites back a look of disgust.

Akira’s eyebrows raise at this, and her expression seems to read that she doesn’t quite trust Momoka’s word on it. 

“Is that all, Captain?” Momoka’s voice has gotten a sing song edge to it, and her arm is still wrapped around Charlotte, “Or can we go home now?”

“Ah, one last thing…” Akira’s eyes flit to Momoka’s hand resting on Charlotte’s shoulder, the irritated expression on the latter’s face, “Starting the next time we meet for practice, I’ll have both of you warm up and cool down together. I want the two of you to work together as much as possible.”

 

This, Charlotte thinks, must be some minor form of hell. It’s Monday afternoon, their first practice after the weekend, and Momoka hasn’t stopped being so….whatever it is.

Charlotte’s sitting on the ground, legs out in front of her, trying to reach her toes. Momoka’s pushing against her back, slowly easing her down into the stretch. She murmurs compliments as she does this, things that would be encouraging if they weren’t coming from Momoka’s mouth, and if Charlotte were not the recipient.

Charlotte keeps her own mouth shut, lips pressed into a hard line. They’re supposed to be getting along, but, she reasons, it’s probably good enough as long as they don’t fight.

They switch places, and Charlotte settles her hands on Momoka’s shoulders. They feel thin, bony through her t-shirt, as if Momoka could be easily snapped in half, if Charlotte really wanted to do that. But she knows better than to think that Momoka is weak; it’s the opposite, there’s a lithe, lean kind of strength to her, and her movements seem almost graceful until suddenly they’re not. Momoka is brutal, and Charlotte has experienced it first hand, several times throughout middle school.

Charlotte glares at the head in front of her, pale blue hair swept into a tight ponytail. Momoka bends lower, hair falling across her shoulder, nape of her neck exposed. Something about it, pale and delicate with a slight sheen of sweat from the intensity of the afternoon sun, has Charlotte gritting her teeth again.

She pushes too hard, and Momoka yelps.

It catches Akira’s attention, who fixes her gaze on the two of them. Charlotte swallows back her pride, and gives Momoka a quick, unfeeling apology.

“That really hurt,” Momoka pouts, “you’ll have to apologize better than that!”

“I already said I was sorry,” Charlotte fights to restrain her anger, though Momoka doesn’t seem to be able to take a hint. That, or she’s doing it on purpose, and it’s most likely the latter.

“Nope, it doesn’t count! You have to do it cutely!”

Charlotte doesn’t feel like dealing with her bullshit, but Akira’s watching so she takes a deep breath instead.

“Why do you keep doing this?”

Momoka turns to face her, tipping her head to the side, eyes wide. “Huh? Doing what?”

“That…” Charlotte frowns, Momoka’s eyes are looking right into hers and she wants nothing more than to break eye contact. Something about it is irritating, twinkling green eyes all lit up with mischief. But her stubborn streak is a deep one, and so she keeps her gaze level, hard. “Making me angry. It’s not funny.”

Momoka’s lips shape into a small  _ oh _ , before she immediately bursts into peals of laughter. The sound is high like a windchime, but sharp like a knife. Something inside of Charlotte’s stomach does a backflip.

“But it is! It’s so fun!” Momoka laughs, “I can’t help it, you know? You’re so cute.”

Another backflip. Charlotte ignores it, and ignores Momoka calling her  _ cute _ , and instead spits out, “Your personality is shit.”

Momoka only grins, as if she’s been complimented, “I know!”

 

Charlotte’s sitting cross legged on the floor of her bedroom right now, applying a face mask, small mirror set in front of her. The green mixture is something she’s made herself, keeping herself this cute requires effort, especially with how much time she spends out in the sun.

Charlotte is cute, she knows it for a fact. Her curly hair is soft and silky, her eyes are bright like shining amethysts, her lips are the perfect pink pout. There’s her figure too, and her sense of style. Compliments are only to be expected, anyone would agree that she’s cute. But it’s not something she wants to hear out of Momoka’s mouth.

It sounds like an insult, when it comes from her. In fact, anything that Momoka says sounds vile to Charlotte’s ears.

She thinks, for half a second, what if Momoka means what she says. She falls onto her back, shaggy purple carpet cushioning her. 

No. 

There’s no way that Momoka means it, and it’s probably some evil scheme of hers to make Charlotte lose her cool. 

There’s still that little part of Charlotte that wishes it were true. It’s that innocent part of her, that twelve year old that had found Momoka cute at first sight. She wants to murder her middle school self.

It must be, Charlotte decides, the devil and Momoka tag teaming against her, because what other explanation is there for a first love this incredibly shitty?

 

They’re huddled together, holding hands in a circle, which Akira insists on before every practice, every match. Today’s is a practice match against a neighboring school, but there’s only a few weeks until the season starts officially, so a serious, charged feeling hangs in the air. 

Akira’s giving them the usual pep talk, all well meaning words about having fun, the importance of teamwork, but it’s difficult for Charlotte to pay attention. As her rotten luck would have it, Momoka is to her right, and holding hands with her may possibly be the worst torture that Charlotte has experienced in her life. 

Momoka’s hand is slender, soft within Charlotte’s own, and she resists the urge to flinch when Momoka suddenly gives her hand a squeeze. This truly is the worst, the match hasn’t even started, and Charlotte’s already feeling off her game.

Of course it can only get worse, and Momoka slides her fingers in between Charlotte’s, in what would be a very affectionate hand hold if Momoka and the word  _ affectionate _ were allowed in the same sentence.

They do their cheer,  _ Gooo Mermaids! _ , before the circle breaks and everyone busies themselves with whatever preparations are left. Even though Momoka’s fingers are no longer linked through hers, Charlotte’s hand still feels warm. Gross, she thinks, but stops herself from scowling as Akira steps closer.

“I’m glad to see you two are getting along better.” She pats them both on the shoulder, and Charlotte notes absently that their captain is somewhat of a mother hen.

Momoka bounces slightly on her feet, before swinging an arm around Charlotte. Her cheek rubs against Charlotte’s, and she grins, “Of course! We’re the beeestest friends, aren’t we?”

To be completely honest, what Charlotte wants right then is nothing more to shove Momoka away, and possibly punch her too, but it’s definitely much more wise to play along. She nods her head, “Mhmm! We’re super close now!”

It sounds fake, but Akira buys it, beaming at the two of them. She walks off, to get some final instructions from their coach.

“Hey,” Momoka says, arm still slung around Charlotte’s shoulder. She pushes her, until they’re facing each other at an uncomfortably close distance, “I’m first at bat.”

Charlotte rolls her eyes, is she trying to brag? Charlotte herself is third, clean up is also really good. This won’t get to her.

“So?”

“Wish me good luck.” Momoka says, lips pulling into a sly smirk.

Charlotte looks at her the way someone might look at a smushed, but still twitching cockroach. She drags the words out of her mouth, as if with difficulty, “Good...luck..?”

“That’s boring!” Momoka laughs, “I meant like this-”

There’s a glint in her eye that really should have warned Charlotte, but there was possibly no way she was expecting to find Momoka’s lips pressed against hers. 

“Like that!” Momoka grins as if she’s extremely proud of herself, “I’ve got Char’s blessing now, I’m gonna go and fucking crush them!”

She says this in a singsong voice, as if she hasn’t just declared war. She’s already skipped off before Charlotte has really just caught up to what’s happened.

A sudden pressure of Momoka’s lips against hers, soft breath, the sweet but sour taste of the lollipops that she’s always eating.

This is beyond just teasing her, trying to piss her off. Charlotte is seeing red, it’s anger and frustration all at the same time.

But she pushes it out of her mind, now isn’t the time to get riled up. If there’s one thing at all that she agrees with Momoka about, it’s about  _ fucking crushing  _ the other team.

 

Momoka’s taunts are really just one hair width away from being illegal, and Charlotte herself plays so rough it’s just as close from breaking the rules. The other team whines, but strictly speaking, they’ve done nothing out of bounds.

Nimi and Noe’s teamwork isn’t anything to sneeze at either, their battery strikes out the opposition’s batters before they even know what hit them.

At some point, when Charlotte’s walked back into the dugout after making it home, cheeks flushed with happiness, chest puffed with pride, Momoka holds up a hand. Charlotte high fives it.

 

They do absolutely crush the other team, grind them right into dust, really. Their coach decides to reward them with ice cream, and Charlotte is really so delighted that she’s entirely forgotten about Momoka and the entire  _ good luck kiss _ thing.

Or at least, she forgets about it until Momoka takes a seat next to her, wide grin on her face. Charlotte tries to ignore her, focusing more on shoveling ice cream into her mouth. Which isn’t recommended, since she gets brain freeze a second later, and ends up holding her head in her hands, groaning.

Momoka laughs as if it’s the funniest thing she’s ever seen, and Charlotte all but growls at her.

“You’re so cute, Char.” 

There’s that nickname again, “Who said you could call me that?”

“You can call me Momo if you want,” She offers back, with a wink.

“No way.”

“Aww, why not? It’s cute, right?” 

Charlotte crumples up the paper cup, ice cream finished, and tosses it into the trashcan. “I don’t  _ want _ to get along with you.”

Momoka pouts, “That’s a pity...I really want to.”

“No, you don’t.” Charlotte stands up, but Momoka grabs her hand. She freezes in place, but regains herself. She looks down at her, with all the disgust that she can muster when her heart’s racing at about a mile a minute, “You don’t. You just want to mess with me.”

Momoka laughs, “You’re right about that, but--”

Charlotte shakes off Momoka’s hand, and walks off before she can continue speaking. It’s nothing worth listening to anyway, probably.

 

Charlotte isn’t sure what starts it, but they’re at each other’s throats again. Momoka doesn’t even  try to veil her taunts behind sugar sweet smiles and pretty words, and both of their voices are raised to yells.

Akira comes to break them apart, but not before Charlotte manages to raise a hand and slap Momoka hard across the cheek. The look in her eyes flashes from anger, to hurt, to betrayal. Charlotte swallows, her own eyes starting to sting.

Akira pushes them both towards the locker room, and sits them down. She doesn’t look angry, just tired and disappointed.

“I thought...I thought we were over this.” 

The pit of Charlotte’s stomach falls, now that her anger has washed over, all she feels is guilt and shame. 

“I’m sorry.” Momoka’s voice is meek, the smallest that Charlotte has ever heard it.

Akira nods her head, “Both of you, run an extra five laps after practice. Reflect on your actions.”

Then her gaze seems to soften, “I don’t want to have to take either of you off the team. I like both of you, you’re so important to the team. Please work through this, I really think the both of you could be unstoppable together...remember last week’s practice match?”

They both nod their heads in unison, and Akira clasps their shoulders. 

“Show me that, okay? That you can put aside differences, that you can be strong. I believe in you, don’t let me down.”

 

The five laps are run in silence, a stifling, smothering kind of silence that threatens to choke them both. It’s still silence when they enter the locker room, silence as they begin to change.

Charlotte stops, glances over at Momoka. Her face is blank, none of her usual teasing smirks, her eyes aren’t even catching the light the way they usually do.

Charlotte balls her hands into tight fists, “Look, what Akira said is right.”

Momoka looks up, a little startled. 

“I know you hate me, but we should--” 

Momoka cuts her off, “I don’t hate you.”

Charlotte blinks, “But you...why else would you keep trying to piss me off?”

“Did you ever think that I wasn’t trying to piss you off?” Momoka slides closer to Charlotte, and Charlotte ends up taking a step back. “Even when I’m trying to be nice, you get angry...I mean, it  _ is _ hella cute, but…”

Charlotte frowns, “You’re messing with me again.”

“I’m not.” Momoka’s eyebrows point down sharply, and she looks frustrated.

“I know you are. You hate me. You’ve always hated me, and you’re always trying to pick a fight and okay, I hate you too and--”

“Can you shut up for a second?” Momoka takes another step forward, and now Charlotte’s back is against the lockers. She shivers at the cold metal touching bare skin, suddenly hyper aware that she’s only got her sports bra on top and of the few centimeters between her and Momoka.

“I like you.” Momoka says it with a smirk, “And you like me, too.”

Charlotte’s immediate reaction is to scowl, to reject Momoka’s words, maybe it’s a matter of pride or maybe she’s just embarrassed. “I don’t believe you.”

It’s Momoka’s turn to scowl, pretty purple painted lips stretched over white teeth. She repeats, “I like you. I’ve literally been trying sooo hard to flirt with you. I even kissed you, what more proof do you need?”

“Prove it to me again,” Charlotte says, heartbeat loud and thundering in her ears. She wraps her arms around the back of Momoka’s neck, their foreheads touch, she whispers it like a challenge, “Kiss me.”

Momoka blinks, but there is no hesitation at all when her lips settle against Charlotte’s. And despite all the charged tension, the way their tempers were just a fuse short of being lit, the way they meet is soft, curious. Small, chaste kisses that all too soon break into something hotter, rougher because a word to describe either of them isn’t ever  _ patient _ .

Charlotte’s hands slide through Momoka’s silken, blue hair, tugging out her hairtie. She bites, the taste of Momoka’s sweet and sour lips on her tongue, and Momoka bites back. Charlotte gasps, and now there’s Momoka’s tongue running across her lips, all hot, before she takes the chance to slip it into her mouth. There’s Momoka’s hand in her hair, and another hand teasingly running across her back.

They break apart, heavy breaths that are composed more of short gasps, bodies still pressed together.

“How…” Momoka tries to regain her breath, cheeks flushed and hot, “How was that? Do you...believe me?”

Charlotte presses her lips together, tilting her head to the side as if she’s considering it, “I don’t know...you’re evil, have the shittiest personality I have ever encountered, but...I like you.”

Momoka grins, “Your personality is shit too, we make a great couple.”

“Shut up,” Charlotte says, but there’s no strength behind it. All that honesty seems to have taken it’s toll on her, she buries her head into Momoka’s shoulder. She whispers, “I’ll kill you if you break my heart.”

Momoka kisses the top of her head, “I love you too, Char.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
